Adam Ash

Your daily entertainment scout. Whatever is happening out there, you'll find the best writing about it in here.

Friday, May 26, 2006



“I thought I’d get you some flowers,” said Ezra.

Eve held up a small vase. “Where shall I put them?” It would take at least fifty such vases to contain the mountain of flowers. Ezra picked an armful of flowers from the cart.

“Let’s just put them all over,” he said, throwing flowers in the air. Eve joined him until the room looked like a garden in a blaze of flowers.. Everywhere they looked lay flowers. Everywhere they walked t lay flowers. The room was an effulgence of color, a floral assault of fragrance, a dizzying blast of sheen and texture.

“This is what it must feel like to be a bee,” said Ezra.

“Oh, Ezra,” said Eve, and fell into his arms. “My oh my.”

They landed on the bed, strewn with flowers, and rolled around. When Ezra realized that Eve was naked under the robe, he stood up and raced to get out of his clothes.

Under the assault of his ardor, Eve forgot to pray. His head vanished between her legs; she lay breathing in the fragrance of the flowers as he licked her. Enjoyable but not very spiritual. Romantic, yes, but her angel did not appear. He had been replaced by the flowers. She was aware of Ezra’s cheeks between her legs, and of his mouth, and of his tongue, all separate parts of him that she could feel separately in every place they touched, as physical contacts. She was aware of his hands on her thighs, another separate place. He was the sum of his limbs. She was the sum of hers. She was cognizant of her hands on his head, and the ticklish sensation of his hair on her fingers. He turned himself around so that his penis hovered over her face.

She did not have the sense that she had before, with Adam, of a blur of sensation, of her pleasure concentrated in one point, as well as everywhere, of little plump explosions here, there and everywhere. Ezra was his tongue and his hands and his arms and now his hairy legs and this big cock thing, which she dutifully grasped and put in her mouth: all of it did not amount to a single, heightened, piercing sensation. She heard him sigh, and now there was the added physicality of sound. Now she could lick and hear him react, and he did, noisily, as she turned her tongue over and around the head and held the shaft between her fingers like a sensitive bassoon. She wanted his face and his eyes before her, and here was this big, thick thing.

Suddenly he pulled himself out of her mouth and swung around, his head bumping against her knee, his knee jamming her side, her legs flailing about to spread around him, and then he was on top of her, his thing poking seriously all over the lips of her vagina to find purchase. She helped him in. His eyes opened and shut. She looked at his face like one would at a fish in an aquarium, up close, the fish having swum to the glass partition and staring in that fish-way of eternally unknown eyes and an unfathomable fish-world. He suddenly felt not like Ezra, but like a strange creature, very different from her. He was in some anguish of ecstasy, and she was in some fixed frame of observer status, as if she were a portrait of herself hanging on a wall in a gallery looking out at a man staring at her painted on the wall.

Ezra pumped and she responded to the pumps, her body answering his body, but her mind distant. The flowers had made everything too surreal. It was she and Ezra, yes, but it was also this creature, this satyr, this man who could be one of those Greek god beings, half-man, half-goat, a mythical being who lived in a floral world.

He pumped wildly and she tried to contain his wild pumps, but he slipped out. His hand went to his cock and he tried to guide himself in, but he was jamming at the wrong hole. She did not know if he knew that. Another weird and palpably physical thing. Her hand closed over his and held him there. She wondered if she could open that hole, too. She had never thought of it before. This was the hole her patients used, the hole she tried to nurture them away from. A taboo. She wondered if it was possible for her to come that way. She knew it was possible for homosexuals. There was a sensitive spot down there that helped them climax. She knew women did not have the same physical gland in their behinds. Maybe this was all part of the kind of behavior that Blesseds could indulge in, the way she had heard Non-Sanctioned Notions expressed in the company of people like Esther and Ezra. She did not know if this might be a sex option for Blesseds that she had never heard about because she was only a Beloved.

Was Ezra trying to get his penis into her anal passage because he had intended to do that all along? or because he thought about it just now? or because he didn’t know what he was doing? She held his penis there, and felt the head push against her sphincter muscles. She tried to do what she thought might be the Blessed thing -- relax herself -- but she could not. She even tried to push him in, but the strain clamped her shut, and so she moved him to her vagina.

He entered superfast, shrieking with a private, girlish ecstasy that surprised her. The shriek and the sudden presence of his penis in her vagina, as if it had assembled itself inside her, instead of actually entering her, blip! were disconcerting.

He lifted himself on his elbows, and then lifted her up with him. Then he arched back. She ended up on top of him. Smoothly done. Now she was riding him. She loved it. Here was this powerful man under her. She came surprisingly quickly, feeling herself collapse around the shaft, even though she was still straddling it. A building demolished from the inside but still being held up by the walls. It shook her, from her center to her extremities, but there was no angel, no spiritual component, only the physical collapse inside, the fall of limbs, body cells in descent; she wondered if this was right. She was no more than a cat in heat pleasuring itself by rubbing its hindquarters against the leg of a chair. Nothing spiritual.

She looked down at Ezra’s face. He seemed so far away, so way down below, and she herself felt far away from her orgasm, too, somewhere down below with him, not up here, where the angel should have been surrounded by flowers.

Ezra took her by the shoulders and steered her down to her side, and then he mounted her from the top, and she lay under him as he suddenly began to shudder and shake, and struck hard at her with his hips -- short, hard bumps, almost like a vibration against her, not much of a move up and down, but a wrenching down there, and then he shouted and fell down over her in a splay of limbs, and she assumed he had come, too.

Now he was a child, shaking. She held him as he shook in her arms. She patted his back, and felt the hair there. All this physicality.

At last he spoke.

“That was amazing,” he said. “I never felt like this before.”

She smiled at him. She did not know what to say.

“It was different,” he said. “So different.”

“How?” she asked.

“I gave myself to you,” he said. “I’ve never felt that I gave myself before. Oh, Eve.”

She felt happy for him. It seemed to mean an awful lot to him. She did not know how she felt. She felt odd because the angel had been absent, and now, listening to Ezra describing his opinion of their experience, she felt ashamed that she had had an orgasm without the angel being there to give his blessing.

“You are a good lover,” she said, speaking from an automaton inside her.

“I don’t mean that,” he said. “I mean I gave myself, the core of myself. It had nothing to do with being a good lover. God knows, that’s what I’ve always tried to be, but now I felt something so much more. A new progression.” Suddenly he chuckled. “Talk about progression -- was I about to enter a new place in your body at one point?”

“Indeed,” said Eve.

“Funny. It might be something to think about.”

“Have you ever done it from behind before?” Eve asked.

“Quite frankly, no,” he said. “Sodomy causes terrorism, doesn’t it?”

She knew he was lying, and she wondered why he would, especially after he said he felt he had given himself to her. If he had given himself to her, he had now suddenly decided to edit himself a little. She filed this information away for later consideration. What kind of a man edited himself in a moment like this? Would it be as easy to be a spy for Esther as Esther thought, when Ezra was this capable of this on-the-fly editing?

Suddenly there was a buzzing sound. “Lie still,” Ezra said. He touched her with the vibrator until she got used to it, and eventually she got so used to it she liked it. Sex with Ezra was utterly physical. Mechanical, in fact. Apply the cause, and the effect follows. Sex as science. A counterpoint to Sex Aversion Therapy: not shock treatment, but still a form of electricity. So non-spiritual, it was almost a betrayal of her theory of sex as prayer, of sex connecting the human to the divine. Instead, it connected the human with plastic.

Ezra looked at her and smiled. “Like cigarettes, these things are banned, but we Blesseds have our special sources.” Then Ezra changed the subject, and it came as a shock, because when he said his next words, she realized that she had been considering the same thing all along, and whereas she had moved towards this point in quite a smooth way, the experience she had just had – the very physical sex -- seemed like an interruption in this line of thought, like a dam blocking a river, attempting to cut off this flow.

He asked a question to which she might have said “yes” before the sex, but to which she did not have an answer now, because of the physical nature of this experience, because of its non-angel non-spirituality that was located in limbs alone, and didn’t grow any bigger, or soar any higher than the bed. She heard the question drop between them with the soft plop of fate, a sly shift of the space from her to him and back.

He asked: “Have you ever thought of doing something suitably Christian and getting married again?”


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